LM Chapter 1.1

The man was miserable. Today, maybe yesterday… no, looking back, he’d been miserable his entire life.

“You piece of trash! Get out of my house right now!”
“Ah, Anna… I didn’t mean to… ugh!”

Before he could finish his excuse, an old suitcase flew straight at the man’s face.

The man’s pale face, struck by the suitcase, flushed fiercely red.

“How could you sell my mother’s keepsakes to gamble at the casino? Don’t ever show your face in front of me again! You crazy bastard!”
“Hey, Anna! That’s harsh….”

He desperately called out Anna’s name, but the door slammed shut right before his eyes.

“I didn’t just steal them! I was gonna win ten times that amount and bring it back! Damn it!”

But no more sound came from the door. 

He pushed against the violently shut door, but it was locked so tightly that there wasn’t even a crack.

“Ha…! Fine! Get lost then! I don’t need a woman like you who doesn’t even understand the important work I do! Is there no other woman besides you?!“ Shouting like that, the man left the old house.

It was the moment when his tenth stint as a kept man – carried out with that handsome face of his – finally came to an end.

“Damn it… Where should I go…”

He had set out boldly, but the situation was hopeless. The man’s head drooped involuntarily, his pure white silver hair fluttering helplessly in the cold winter wind.

This pitiful man’s name was Lyndon Mowgan. Having barely survived twenty-three years, this world was truly unforgiving to him.

Abandoned as an infant in a baby box outside an infamous orphanage, Lyndon grew up like the other children there – subjected to grueling labor and brutal beatings from a young age.

Then, one year when he turned fifteen, like other children experiencing puberty, he too fled the orphanage.

Contrary to his expectation that he’d end up living in back alleys, stealing ladies’ purses, Lyndon’s life actually turned out remarkably well. By chance, he met the butler of a baron’s household, who helped him secure a job as a stable boy at the baron’s estate.

The stable boy’s work was grueling and hard. Yet, warm meals were provided without fail at every break, and a monthly wage, however meager, came in without fail. Back then, Lyndon even dared to dream of becoming the family’s butler someday.

Those were days when he was lulled into the illusion that life was that easy.

Surprisingly, no one mocked Lyndon’s dream back then. Even though he had become a pathetic man, swindling women and addicted to gambling, the respectable title of butler was not beyond his reach at that time.

Compared to the other stable boys, whose twisted faces suggested they’d never rise beyond coachmen, Lyndon, tall and well-featured, was a talent destined to become a footman and eventually a head butler.

He wasn’t a particularly clever or sharp man, but he possessed better skeletal structure and a more handsome face than anyone else in the baron’s household.

So, purely based on that handsome face alone, he was deemed qualified to be the butler. Ignoring his idiotic thick skull and his backward personality that enjoyed taking advantage of others.

Anyway, that was once Lyndon’s life.

It wasn’t a life worthy of being featured as a local celebrity in the newspaper, but it was still a life that placed him slightly above the average commoner. 

When exactly did his life start to unravel like this? What on earth had caused him to become a vagrant on the streets?

Was it his lack of moral fiber from birth? Or perhaps his intelligence, which fell short of what was needed to be a butler? Was it his careless and unreliable nature? Or was it simply that his luck had run out!

Yes. Thinking about it calmly, it was all luck. The reason his fate had become so wretched.

And no wonder. The baron and baroness of the family he served were renowned for their integrity, people beyond reproach. That such people would attempt to incite a rebellion? It was utterly unbelievable.

But whether Lyndon believed it or not, most of his people had been executed for treason. The steward who had taken him in and written his recommendation was among the first to meet his end. Lyndon had truly survived by sheer luck.

“Damn it… Why a rebellion of all things…”

Pushed out of the baron’s estate, the first thing Lyndon did was gamble. Clutching the money he’d painstakingly saved, he rushed into the casino dreaming of striking it rich.

Lyndon never intended to stay long. He planned to open a small grocery store and live an honest life once he won his target amount.

But unfortunately, on his very first bet, he won twenty times his target amount. It was beginner’s luck, but for Lyndon, it was beginner’s misfortune.

Having tasted fortune, Lyndon began pouring every penny he got into the casino thereafter.

Naturally, no more luck followed. His money vanished in an instant, and he even had to abandon the house he was renting.

Once he fell into gambling, he could no longer find satisfaction in a regular job. His dopamine-addled brain had been twisted beyond recognition, incapable of sound thinking. With each passing day, the rot set in more fiercely.

It was almost inevitable that Lyndon, now a rotting, walking piece of trash, would become a gigolo. For the past few years, he’d barely scraped by, leeching off one woman after another with his decent looks. 

Today, he’d finally been dumped by his tenth woman.

“Haa… I’m starving.”

The current Lyndon wore a week-old, unwashed suit from gambling all night, topped with an equally worn and frayed bowler hat. All he held was the empty suitcase Anna had tossed him moments ago.

He rummaged through his pockets, and a mere two pence clinked out. Sitting on a park bench with a heavy heart, a homeless man sitting beside him handed Lyndon today’s newspaper.

“New here? Use this. It’ll come in handy.”
“What? Who are you…?”

Lyndon, who was about to snap back, ‘Who do you think I am, a beggar?’ (though he was, in fact, a beggar), gaped when he saw the advertisement scrawled on the edge of the newspaper the kind homeless man had given him.

“…”

Usually, an assistant butler’s salary was barely £10 at best. But they were hiring an assistant butler – not even a head butler – and offering £50 a month? If he could just get the job, he could truly start a new life.

But… however much he wanted that assistant butler interview…

“Damn my background holding me back… huh?”

Dejected, Lyndon scanned the job posting again and blinked. Slowly, carefully, he read the small print at the bottom.

Lyndon’s eyes widened at that, then began to shine brightly. Perhaps he could finally achieve his long-held dream. 

His heart began to race.

“Next candidate, Mr. Lyndon Mowgan. Ah… Huxley… From a baron’s family, I see.”

Lyndon and the other two butler candidates sat side by side across from the interviewers.

Linden was slightly taken aback, not expecting the name of his family background to be suddenly mentioned. They said family background didn’t matter. Was that just empty talk?

“Yes…”

There were two interviewers. Yet, an empty chair sat between them. Did that mean there were actually three interviewers?

As Lyndon tried to guess the number of interviewers, both men simultaneously scowled and began to speak negatively.

“Unfortunately, our family cannot accept someone from a traitor’s household…”

Just then, the door burst open abruptly. A tall, handsome man walked in. He possessed an entirely different aura from both the two interviewers seated before him and the other applicants interviewing alongside Lyndon.

His mere appearance transformed the temperature of this vast interview room. With each step he took, a heavy, overwhelming pressure rose up behind him.

‘Ah, so a person’s face alone can give you goosebumps.’ Lyndon stared at the man, mesmerized, as he thought this.

The man walked leisurely past the window. His blond hair, lightened further by the sunlight, shone with a translucent radiance. His pupils shimmered mysteriously, a pure, refined golden hue devoid of any impurity. His eyebrows and eyelashes were thin and faint, as if bleached white, yet the eye shape beneath them revealed a captivatingly sharp contour.

A faint blush of pale pink tinged his skin, which was so white it seemed almost sickly. His porcelain-smooth facial lines evoked the image of a century-old statue meticulously carved by a master artisan.

“…”

At first glance, his face was so beautiful it was difficult to discern his gender.

Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. His face was that unreal.

And yet, beneath that face of such beauty, his legs were impossibly long, and his frame was enormous. Lyndon himself was nearly six feet tall, but the man easily surpassed him in size.

Soon after, the man sat down in the empty chair at the center.

“Your Grace, you’ve arrived!”

Immediately the two interviewers stood up and bowed deeply to him. Lyndon and the other interviewees who had come for the interview stood up as well, bowing their heads to the man. The moment they raised their heads, the man and Lyndon’s eyes met for the second time, suspended in mid-air.

“…”

Strangely, the man was staring intently at Lyndon. Just as he thought he was going to burn a hole through his cheek, the interviewer’s voice broke the silence.

“Your Grace, this Lyndon Mowgan. He has experience working at the Huxley Manor…”

Then, the beautiful man called the Duke spat out his words somewhat aggressively, “Didn’t I say background doesn’t matter?”

“… Yes.”

His tone was surprisingly old-fashioned, unlike his appearance. But perhaps that made him seem even more charming. Then again, with a face like that, he’d be charming even if he couldn’t speak.

The duke turned his gaze back, arrogantly surveying the three interviewees. He gave each a single, equal glance, but lingered particularly long on Lyndon. Finally, a shocking sound escaped the duke’s lips.

“Undress.”
“… Pardon?”

Lyndon answered in surprise. The duke’s expression, however, grew even colder. Staring so fiercely with that flawless face made his heart drop to his heels.

“If you don’t intend to interview, leave. I absolutely detest wasting time,” the duke, Hayley Whitaker, barked coldly.

In truth, he was extremely irritated.

The Crown Prince Cedric Lorenz, soon to become Emperor, was a notorious homosexual. He was so shameless that he would openly parade around ballrooms with men on his arm.

Amidst this, rumors quietly circulated that whenever he visited another noble house, he would assault the butler of that household or something like that. (At this part, Hayley had made a face as if he was disgusted even to speak the words.)

Then one day, someone who couldn’t stand it anymore offered to find him a male prostitute. He reportedly refused outright, giving the bizarre answer that he wanted a clean-ass heterosexual man who hadn’t been with other men.

If it had stopped there, it would have been fortunate. Crown Prince Cedric was known for devouring the butlers of the houses he visited, regardless of whether they were old or young.

The position of head butler in a household was one that could only be held by men of exceptional appearance. But no matter how handsome, they were still men with cocks. 

Hayley didn’t know what excitement the Crown Prince felt devouring them, nor did he want to know… The fact that Duke Whitaker’s head butler was in his fifties was a major problem.

If he simply refrained from touching an older butler, that would be the end of it. Yet Crown Prince Cedric would inevitably force himself upon the old butler, then frame him for treason, embezzlement, or even blasphemy, extracting enormous fines.

And in the case of Baron Huxley’s household, where Lyndon Mowgan had belonged, the butler was an old man in his seventies, wasn’t he… 

Probably why they were framed for sedition… 

The innocent Baron and Baroness Huxley lost their lives because of Cedric’s fucking nonsense.

Hayley clenched his fist and tapped his chest lightly. Imagining the Crown Prince forcing himself on a seventy-year-old man made his stomach churn.

What if one day, without warning, he visited the Duke’s household, had a wild romp with Edmund, the butler seated to his right, and then pinned embezzlement or, worst case, treason on them…. 

Treason couldn’t possibly be pinned on the Duke’s household, but the very thought was both troublesome and horrifying.

Hayley shook his head and ordered them to strip once more. Honestly, he couldn’t stand this butler interview nonsense. He wanted to wrap this up quickly and get out. 

If only Lyndon Mowgan weren’t sitting before him.-